


chewing our tongues off

by captainangua



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Porn, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Divorced John Winchester/Mary Winchester, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff and Humor, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Kinda, M/M, Minor Anna Milton/Ruby, Musician Castiel (Supernatural), Mutual Pining, Nipple Play, Oblivious Castiel (Supernatural), POV Castiel (Supernatural), Past Anna Milton/Dean Winchester, Past Castiel/Meg Masters, Past Gordon Walker/Dean Winchester, Quarantine, Rimming, Romantic Comedy, Sex Work, Sick Dean Winchester, Sickfic, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, a lot of tags to get added, i also don't want me to be doing what i'm doing, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:07:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 17,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23270704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainangua/pseuds/captainangua
Summary: Facing at least two weeks of quarantine together in their tiny apartment, Cas and Dean finally get to know, and then like each other.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 116
Kudos: 227





	1. Day 1

**Author's Note:**

> Folks, I absolutely wish I was not the sort of person who did not think this whole thing up weeks ago, but here we are. So, yeah, while looking down the barrel of two weeks indoors, this is where I am. Hope everyone else is keeping healthy and safe wherever you are!

Shoulders creaking with displeasure, Cas sat himself up enough to look over his laptop and meet his roommate’s eyes.

“What happened to the office work?”

Dean’s bag thunked down onto their narrow, fold-out kitchen table with a sound that made Cas wince. “Manager has a temperature, we’ve all been sent home. So scooch, this is office work for me now.”

Cas slumped his shoulders back into their regularly uncomfortable position and reluctantly pulled his laptop towards him. The kitchen/living area to their _barely_ two bed apartment would not pass any office risk assessment. “There’s not room for us both to stay set up here.”

“Like you’re even working.”

Gritting his teeth, Cas concentrating in clicking his mouse with a little more force than necessary. “I am trying to find out if there’s any gig venues left open in the city.”

“Newsflash: there’s none. So like I said, not working.”

It wasn’t that Cas disliked his roommate. When Anna had introduced him back in college to her famous ex-hook-up who was looking for someone to take on the room about to become vacant in his apartment, Cas had found him charming, funny, and almost disgustingly attractive in the dim lights they’d met each other under. It hadn’t seemed a difficult decision.

Now, Cas knew Dean to be arrogant, loud, and by turns the exact brand of both neat freak and slob that was impossible to live with.

(Unfortunately, he had not become any less attractive under the lights of their tiny apartment.”

The idea of living _and_ working with him for the foreseeable future was like looking at the bottom of a very deep well that he’d just been thrown down. Though unfortunately, in this instance, Dean was completely right. Cas was screwed. He’d barely started to get his shows off the ground and now, well, _this_ had to come and slam all the potentially open doors in the city closed. He might as well be browsing online booksellers for all the good this particular search was doing his finances.

“Look, I’ll just stay on my side of the table over here, and you can stay on your side over there.”

“No music, please.”

Thirty seconds in one of their rickety dining chairs and Dean was already endangering it’s structure by leaning right back in it. They were definitely never getting their deposit back. “What if it was- ”

“No.”

“You haven’t heard what I was gonna -”

“ _Please_ , Dean.”

There were a few minutes of quiet as they listened to their upstairs neighbour’s dishwasher threaten to shake their ceiling apart.

“The landlord said anything yet?”

“Nothing since that helpful email yesterday about feeling for us in this difficult time.”

Dean groaned, thudding the chair back on the ground. “He’s expecting rent.”

“He’s expecting rent. And even if it all gets frozen we’re not looking good. I’m broke. You’re _definitely_ broke.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re living on a call centre salary, you bought your Mom an antique sword for Christmas and you took your annual Vegas trip last month.”

Dean shrugged. “Yeah, I’m broke. Know what else I am?”

“What?”

“Starving. I’m getting snacks.”

Cas’s eyes flicked up. “No you’re not. We don’t need anything, and we’re supposed to be -”

“Social distancing I know,” Dean said picking his coat back up, “But I do not wanna be stuck inside here without a giant bag of -” Dean cut himself off by coughing. “A bag of -” The coughing continued, and got dryer, and louder.

The dishwasher cycle upstairs finally came to an end and silence fell.

“ _No_.”

Dean looked at the elbow he’d just coughed into as though expecting to see blood there. “Oh no friggin’ way – not happening.”

Cas closed his eyes briefly and imagined the idea of being entirely alone with his beautiful, aggravating roommate and their eternally failing wi-fi connection for the next two weeks. Why couldn’t their building have at least allowed for cats? A cat, Cas was sure, would make things better. “You’re not going anywhere, Dean.” _And neither am I,_ he finished glumly in his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am gonna try updating this every day that I am also stuck inside, but every chapter should be a lot longer than this one and I'm really good at lying to myself so let's see how that goes.


	2. Day 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam brings provisions and Dean gets bad news.

“Why don’t you own any fresh food?” Cas asked, his face much closer than he liked to the inside of their fridge, which hadn’t been cleaned up since the last time their landlord had made an appearance.

Dean shrugged from his sunny perch on their kitchen counter, the midday light framing him like a halo. “’S’expensive.”

Cas shook his head and retreated, closing the fridge door in defeat. They’d decided to pool their food resources and cook together to preserve what they had as long as they could, but Cas didn’t see that going very well. Since starting his office work, Dean had done a lot of microwave meals, and before that he’d been in hospitality work and had usually just eaten on the job. Cas had never really seen the man cook, and he didn’t feel confident enough in his own abilities to think of throwing something together with what they had - and certainly not for a fortnight.

“When did you say your brother would be over?”

The shrug again. “Should be soon, he said he’d drop his “care package” downstairs before his shift starts.”

“Well when he does, we should make up a meal plan.”

“Oh _we_ are not doing anyth – _fuck_ -” Dean was able to exclaim, before descending into another painful-sounding coughing fit.

Cas felt his arm twitch. He wasn’t much of hugging type, but he felt like a pat on the arm or _something_ might be appropriate in this situation. If it was someone else, another friend… But Dean had never been a friend, exactly. That had been both the draw and drawback to living with him. So they didn’t hug, and they definitely didn’t arm-pat. It was exactly the kind of easily misinterpretable intimacy that was too dangerous in an apartment this small, and with a roommate who would famously flirt with anything.

(Anything but Cas. And most days that didn’t sting.)

“Should I put you on some kind of soothing tea?”

“Ha.” Dean seemed on the verge of insulting Cas for suggesting it, before realising that Cas might be serious. “Nah. And I need to get back to work, crap.”

“And I need to get back to…” Cas pulled himself back up straight. He’d promised himself that he wasn’t going to wallow. Plenty of people had it worse. He’d remained blissfully ignorant of his entire family’s updates since his teenage years so he had no idea which of them, if any, he should be worrying about, he had no health issues to worry about personally, and this hadn’t cancelled a wedding or anything on him.

“Buck up, buddy, something’ll come along,” Dean assured him gruffly, as he punched him on the arm before turning to sit down.

It wasn’t quite an arm _touch_ , but combined with the “buddy”… Quarantine did seem to be changing them already.

*

Sam arrived with his bag of food a few hours later, and Dean brought it into their apartment like it was a dead animal he’d been forced to clear off the stairwell. “This enough fresh food for you?”

Cas had to suppress a laugh as he helped unpack at the kitchen table. Sam’s practical side still shone through, as there was plenty of tinned food, but the amount of green on top of the bag did seem a little overwhelming at first glance. Eggs, tinned beans, tinned tomatoes, an entire pineapple… Cas couldn’t speak for Dean, but he could definitely make some meals out of this. There was only one non-food item in the bag.

“Huh, durex. Did he get your size right?”

When they’d first moved into their new flat together, figuring that they didn’t have a good enough reason not to keep living together after the rent rose too high on their first place, Dean’s brother and Mom had come over to help them move in, which was how Cas had gotten to know and like Sam. He’d liked Mary very much too, but had been a little overwhelmed by her. She’d known him maybe ten minutes before hearing that he’d be alone for thanksgiving and immediately inviting him. Dean had hurriedly stammered through a, correct, explanation about Cas not celebrating the holiday, looking as flustered as Cas had ever seen him.

Dean looked even more red in the face than that now, which was bizarre, really. He’d never been shy about his sex life, to an almost aggravating degree.

“Your brother has a lot of faith in you, that you’d still find a way of working on your bedpost notches even in the middle of all this.”

“Bitch,” Dean muttered, and threw the brightly coloured box across the living room towards his door. “Have fun meal planning, I’m getting back to work.”

But he wouldn’t be doing that for long.

After only thinking about making a meal plan, Cas retreated to his room, and wrote up some notes for a song, but, hating it, ended up napping to an old Ken Burns documentary. He woke up wishing he didn’t hate himself for not being more productive, and decided that he could at least make progress in making things easier between him and Dean even if his heart wasn’t in any useful things he could progress in. Maybe he could suggest a card game? That was something people still did, right?

He only realised how dark it had gotten when he stepped back into their main room and found everything bathed in soft blue light, that hid Dean from his view for a while. Then he realised that the lump on the couch wasn’t just blanket piled up and that there was a person under there, but he only realised this because said person was coughing.

“Dean, are you feeling worse?”

Dean’s head poked out from under the covers like a turtle’s. “’Sup?”

Deciding that their normal unspoken decorum of distance could definitely be abandoned now, Cas put the back of his hand to Dean’s forehead. “You’re burning up. I think you have a fever, Dean.”

“Sure, sure. But tell you what I _don’t_ have?”

Cas sat down on the arm of their couch. “What?”

“A _job_.”

Cas felt something like panic lurch in his guts. “What happened?”

An arm now followed Dean’s head to snake out of the covers. “They sent an email,” he said, arm flailing.

“You were fired by _email_?”

“ _Everyone_ got fired by email.” He coughed again. “And now my throat really fucking hurts. Can you?” His hand gestured and reached for the glass on the table.

Thinking it was water, Cas picked it up to pass it to him, before suspiciously giving it a sniff. “Is this _whiskey_?”

“Yeah! _So_? I’m fired and in pain and we need to ration the painkillers. Gimme.”

“This won’t help your throat.”

“There’s honey in it,” Dean said defensively.

“We do have painkillers.”

“Yeah, but you’re not sick yet.” Dean seemed to be getting drowsier again. Cas remembered him saying once that he didn’t like to drink too much since he’d seen how nasty his Dad got on it. It had been a flippant comment, but Cas hadn’t ever seen him drink much, so didn’t imagine he had much of a tolerance, especially not when combined with fever.

“I wouldn’t have taken you for a self-martyring type.”

“You don’t know me well enough to take me anywhere.”

Cas didn’t know what to say to that.

Dean’s fingers caught on his wrist. “Don’t leave?” he asked in a voice that sounded twenty years too young for him.

“I’m not going anywhere, Dean.” Cas smiled grimly. “I _can’t_ go anywhere.” But he stayed perched on the couch’s arm until he’d watched Dean fall asleep again.

Then he got up to get himself a bowl of cereal because he had no idea what time it was and none of the normal rules seemed to matter anymore.


	3. Day 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean gets a new money-making idea, and Cas talks about his past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> working from home starting to finally dry up, so I did this instead lol

“I didn’t know you cooked,” Cas said, watching the three pancakes in Dean’s pan fly in the air.

Dean shrugged, threatening to dismantle the blanket draped over his shoulders. “That’s ‘cause you usually sleep through the mornings. I always cook breakfast for visitors,” he said, smirking as he shuffled the pan.

“Ah. You see when you have “visitors”, I don’t usually sleep much.”

Cas found himself staring down the barrel of a finger gun. “Neither do they.”

Too weary to groan, Cas shook his head. Wasn’t fatigue one of the symptoms to watch for?

But then, he reminded himself as he watched Dean plate him up a pile of pancakes, fatigue was also a general symptom of depression, so who was to say where this particular bout was coming from. Also, as Dean had remarked, he really wasn’t a morning person.

“So you gonna try tutoring options ag -” Dean’s voice got caught off by another violent cough that almost caused him to whack his own face with a spatula.

Cas tried to politely ignore this, but eventually couldn’t help himself. “You know there’s lozenges in -”

“The second drawer, I know,” Dean growled.

“…and no. It seems that a good amount of charitable people are offering tutoring to kids for free, so paid online guitar lessons are in lower demand than they’ve ever been.”

“Ouch.”

“If it wasn’t for you I’d be out there getting a supermarket job right now.”

“You’re welcome. And hey. Making you breakfast though,” Dean pointed out, joining Cas on their couch with two plates full of bacon and pancakes.

“This seems an excessive use of our food supplies.”

“Oh, I’m sorry if this doesn’t fit into your _meal plan_.” Dean stuffed his mouth full, balancing his plate dangerously on his crossed legs. “Quit whining already – eat.”

Sensing Dean watching him a good deal more than he was expecting him to and enjoying the attention, Cas took his time pushing a syrup-laden mouthful onto his fork and bringing it up to his face.

“This is… really good, Dean.”

Dean beamed like a kid with a rosette on his chest. “I know,” he said, mouth still full.

“So - have you got any wealthy relatives willing to cover the rent?”

Making a face, Dean shook his head. “God, no. I’m not stressing my Mom out anymore. She still helps Sammy with his, and she’s spending all her time running after her parents.” He rolled his eyes. “Grandpa Sam is the most stubborn, awful old bastard you’ve never met, and he thinks this whole thing’s a hoax. He’s gonna give my poor granny a heart attack if he doesn’t give her the plague first.”

Cas noticed Dean didn’t mention anything about his Dad’s side of the family, but decided to leave that alone for now.

“Besides,” Dean continued. “I’ve got a plan.”

“Oh yeah?”

Dean put his already clean plate down decidedly onto the coffee table, and reached down to pull his sock off. Then, like he was displaying some kind of trophy, he propped his leg up on the end of the couch, pointed at his feet and declared, “Say hello to the new money-maker.”

Cas didn’t know whether to laugh or plant his face in his hands. “Dean, you’re not…”

“Foot fetishists are everywhere,” Dean said knowingly. “People will pay good money to get their hands on a photo of a sexy subject like this.” He narrowed his eyes playfully. “And if you’re one of them, then I’m afraid I’m gonna have to start charging for this session.”

Lost for words, Cas shook his head.

“C’mon, I’m a genius.”

“Dean, I don’t think you’ve got the kind of feet those people pay money for.”

“What would you know about it?” Dean asked, sounding genuinely offended as he pulled his sock back on. “No more free previews for you.”

It was about six hours until Dean went back on his word. Coming back into the kitchen for more coffee, Cas found Dean with his foot propped up on the sink, trying to keep it still for his phone, but not keeping his balance very well.

“Dean…”

A finger shot up in the air. “Don’t even start, the best lighting’s in here.”

Cas sighed and had a brief stare at their stained ceiling. “No, it’s not.”

“What?”

“The bathroom is.” Cas shrugged at Dean’s stare. It wasn’t like he’d been doing much else with his day. “C’mon. I’ve still got my good camera from the club job.”

*

“I still think we should have painted your nails.”

“And we still don’t have any polish between us.” Dean grinned, and Cas felt such a dangerous warmth inside at the sight that he wanted to curl in on himself to better contain it.

“We should have had a nail file around at least.”

“Another gap to fill when we’re allowed into shops again. Remember shops?”

Cas snorted. They were back on their couch again, mildly exhausted from their long, ridiculous photo shoot. When you started taking photos at four o’clock, the lighting was always going to be poor wherever you went. He still didn’t feel up to removing ever single lamp they owned from the bathroom again, but he knew they were going to have to soon.

“So. You got any rich family willing to throw money at us if this fails?”

Cas raised his eyebrows and reached down to pull the couch duvet over them both.

“Oh, yeah. Cult family, right?”

Cas nodded. “Cult family.”

“So you never see _any_ of ‘em anymore?”

“It honestly would be better for them if I had died.” Once, the words would have been difficult to say, but Cas had had nearly a decade of practice now. Besides, hearing himself reiterate the truth of the situation out loud always helped remind him of how utterly ridiculous it was.

“But you just wanted to go to college though, right?” Dean shifted on the couch so that one of his cold feet were touching on Cas’s leg.

“There wasn’t any room for “just” there. I left the family. So…” Cas looked away. “So I left. None of them had any money anyway.”

“When Anna told me about where you’d come from, I was like…” Dean mimed his head exploding. “I had no idea how many places like that were still going. Couldn’t believe these sons of bitches hadn’t been arrested yet.”

Cas smiled faintly. He didn’t mind Anna telling people about his past, it saved him the awkward explanation himself. He’d gotten used to the different reactions he received for the telling of it, but he felt a little guilty for not expecting Dean’s to be quite so mature.

“So was it them who taught you how to play guitar?”

“It’s the one thing I took away from it.”

Dean nodded encouragingly. “That’s cool you’ve got something you learned -”

“No, I mean the guitar. I stole the community guitar.” Cas pouted, thinking of old gripes. ““Community Guitar”. I was the only one who played it anymore.”

Dean laughed, and Cas was suddenly struck by the fact that he wasn’t sure of how many times he’d ever made his roommate laugh before.

“You know what would really make this night better? Get a really good quarantine at the end of the world vibe going?”

“What?”

Dean waggled his eyebrows. “You should play us a song.”

“No.”

“Why not? You’ve got a literal captive audience here.” He scoffed. “You know I can hear you through the walls anyway.”

Knowing his roommate could hear him practice through the walls and playing directly to an audience of only him were two very different things. True, Cas would play for other friends, sometimes, but…

But Dean wasn’t really a friend. Yeah.

“No.”

“C’mon, I’m sick.”

“It’s not going to happen, Dean.”

“We got another eleven days in here,” Dean reminded him, leaning his head back on the couch arm. “I’ll wear you down.”


	4. Day 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas learns more about Dean's food and television taste.

“Coffee?”

“We’re out of coffee, Dean.”

Defeated, Dean laid his head back down on the couch, shivering slightly under his pile of blanket. “I didn’t sleep last night.”

“I know, and you should be sleeping now.”

Cas smirked at his hands as he washed his hands for what felt like the millionth time that morning as he heard Dean grunt an acknowledgement to this. Dean’s fever seemed to have flared up again, but at least he seemed capable of speech.

“Will you agree to painkillers now?”

“Yeah. And food. Can you get me food?”

“…I guess I can make you something.” Dean hadn’t seemed interested in food for almost a day, so this was a good sign, but Cas was nervous about introducing him to his cooking. “Do you want a sandwich?”

“I wanna bacon bits lasagne.”

“A what?”

The words were becoming more slurred and Cas was becoming less certain that Dean was still entirely _with it_. “A bacon. Bits. Lasagne.”

“…ok. And how would you want me to manage that without lasagne sheets?”

“We got tortillas.”

“We do?”

“Second cupboard along from the sink.”

“Uh…”

An arm flopped over the couch, pointing shakily. “The _other_ second cupboard.”

Cas brandished the tortilla packet. “And what do you want me to do with these?”

Dean raised his hand to start count off his fingers. “You get the salsa or the sauce or whatever and you get it on there. You use the tortillas like sheets. You get the bacon. You get the cheese.” He then proceeded to stare at Cas like Cas was asking him how to tie his shoelaces.

Cas sighed. And then he was talked through, in more painstaking detail, how to make a “bacon bits lasagne”.

Despite his reservations, Cas found that their creation was as tasty as the desperation it had been requested with would suggest. “So when did you come up with this?”

“I dunno, Sammy was four, maybe?”

“Which would make you…”

Dean finished scraping the edge of the dish with his finger. The food and the painkillers seemed to have greatly increased his lucidity. “Eight, I guess?”

Cas was still learning and remembering what the “normal” ages for reaching most milestones were, but this seemed fairly young.

“Mom hated cooking and she was always working anyway.”

“And your Dad?”

Dean gave him a long look.

“We talked about the cult yesterday. I figured I could ask.”

“Touché.” Dean waited a beat. “Well Dad wasn’t much for cooking either. He and Mom split when I was twelve, but he’d left or been kicked out a bunch of times before then.”

“Do you still see him now?”

Dean shrugged. “Yeah, I mean less than we see Mom, but nobody cut ties or anything. We catch a ball game or a wrestling match together about twice a year. It’s just kinda weird, he’s got his new family, and they’re happy.”

Sensing, and empathising with the “but” hanging in the air, Cas offered a “that must be difficult.”

“…Yeah.” Dean shrugged again. Maybe it was partly the sickness, but it was different, talking to Dean like this now. All of his usual confident exterior was completely stripped away from him, and suddenly Cas felt like the one who was sure of himself in the room. It was an unusual shift. “It’s cool getting to meet this Dad of the Year now, I just wish he’d turned up a bit sooner, y’know.”

Smiling encouragingly, Cas gestured at their empty plates. “It seems like he missed out on some stellar cooking.” He started to stand up, picking up the plates. “I think I get it now.”

“Get what?”

“You don’t cook for yourself even though you can.” Cas smiled, a little nervous. They had never really Done compliments. “You cook to look after people.”

Dean froze, looking at him like a small animal caught in headlights. “Yeah, well you -”

Feeling merciful, Cas turned away towards the kitchen counter. “It’s not an insult, Dean, you don’t have to throw it back at me.”

*

“You’re right, he does have a puffy face.”

Self-consciously, Cas put his hands to his neck and massaged his now obviously swelling glands. “ _Dean’s_ glands didn’t swell up,” he told Anna and her girlfriend Ruby, currently in a skype bubble on his laptop screen. They were currently regarding him like he was starting to grow gills.

“Well maybe Dean got sick differently. They say symptoms show up strangely -”

“I don’t think I’m sick, Anna.”

“What’s that, chipmunk?” Dean swooped in from the kitchen and leaned in towards the camera.

“It’s not that bad!” Cas insisted, to the sad, in Anna’s case, and amused, in Ruby’s, shaking of heads from the screen.

“I’m not coughing, I don’t have a fever -”

“But if or when you do, at least you’ve got someone to look after you, right?” Anna beamed. “I’m glad you two are getting along. I wouldn’t want to think of either of you being stuck on your own in this.”

“When haven’t we got along?” Cas asked, not daring to turn his head and meet Dean’s eye.

“You’ve got like mostly mutual friends and I’ve barely ever seen the two of you socialise.”

Sensing that Dean was also turning to look, Cas finally met his eyes, and they smiled at each other a little. “Well,” Cas said, clearing his throat. “We have to interact more. We’re co-workers now.”

“Co-workers?”

“I’m Dean’s new cameraman, assisting him in his new career as a model.”

Looking grumpy, Dean finally flung his blanket-laden body over the couch, not seeming to be aware that he was essentially cuddling in to Cas now. “Nobody’s paid me yet, can you believe it?”

“And we worked so hard on getting the lighting right too.”

“So what body-parts are you trying to entice the internet with?” Ruby asked.

“Feet.”

Ruby shook her head, dark hair flicking in front of her girlfriend’s face. “You should try that site where they pay you to masturbate. Ooh!” She added, eyes lighting up devilishly. “You’re an attractive pair. You should make a sex tape.”

“Excuse me?” Cas said

Dean snorted. “Attractive, maybe, but this one’s a prude Ruby, sorry.”

“Maybe we should just rent strike,” Cas suggested, wanting to defend on the prudish accusation but feeling like it was more important to change the subject immediately. Especially when Dean was close enough for Cas to smell his shampoo.

(It was Fresh Mint, and it stained the shower a horrible acid green colour.)

““Just” rent strike. You wanna try getting our building to agree with us on something?”

“I’m sure that for a common cause -”

“Old Hester hates you for the late-night guitar playing and she still remembers that one time I threw that tiny little party last year.”

“It was definitely not tiny. But ok, maybe we get someone else to speak to Hester.”

“And Gordon hates me.”

“Which one’s Gordon?”

“3B.”

“The one you slept with?”

“Yeah. Ended well, but then I slept with his sister.”

“ _Dean_.”

“It was tinder, I didn’t know they were related!”

“Ain’t they cute?” Anna asked Ruby.

*

Cas placed the bowl of popcorn down on the coffee table with great ceremony. “This is our last bag of popcorn. Please tell me we’re not honouring it with you attempting again to make me watch the _Star Wars_ prequels with you.”

Shaking his head, Dean waved the remote at Cas in annoyance. “Why are you always so against the suggestion?”

Cas sat down. It had been hard to decide, after all the strange almost-cuddling over the last few days, where to position himself. In the end, he had decided on keeping to the other end of their small couch, with his feet down so that not even those could touch Dean. He told himself that this mostly had to do with healthy distancing considering Dean’s illness, but he knew it was much more directly a response to Anna and Ruby’s teasing earlier. The sex-tape comment had been bad enough, but as they’d continued the call together, recounting their respective time inside, Cas had started to feel like they were on a dystopic kind of double date.

Which was ridiculous. Anna was right: he and Dean didn’t even usually talk. Until recently, Dean had worked shifts, and Cas had worked irregularly, and despite Anna’s teasing, they did have many of their own friends. It could sometimes be days without them seeing one another. And the traces Dean did leave behind were annoying. He was more likely to have friends over, and they weren’t always quiet or considerate. Dean seemed to have a knack for blasting the radio in the kitchen _exactly_ when Cas was trying to concentrate on a song in his room. He would leave food in the fridge out of laziness, and then, apparently, fear, leaving Cas to throw out the remains of whatever it had been weeks later.

But now they were chatting about their lives and cooking together and sharing blankets on the couch.

And it wasn’t… bad.

Cas didn’t really know what it was though. “I didn’t find the original movies as compelling as I was told they would be, and I’ve been informed that the prequels are actively bad, so what would endear me to them?”

“One, bad’s half the fun, and two, no more saying anything bad about _Star Wars_ under my roof.”

“You don’t have a roof, and if you did half of it would be mine.”

Dean smiled, and bit down on his lip like he wished he wasn’t. Then he turned to the TV. “Nah, I’m too tired for movies anyways. I want dumb TV.”

Which is how Cas found himself watching the first episode of _Love Is Blind._

“As someone who has actually lived in a cult, this is… _barbaric_.”

“Isn’t it great?”

“People signed up for this _willingly_?”

Eyes glowing with glee, Dean put another handful of popcorn in his mouth. “These people all need therapy so bad.”

Leaning back on the couch, Cas crossed his arms. It was forty minutes into the first episode and he was incensed. “It’s all a lie. This isn’t about being blind – which seems like it could be uniquely offensive to those who are – it’s about removing outer contexts. And you need those contexts to tell you who a person is. You don’t learn about someone by a prepared speech they can give you through a wall, you learn about them from how much they tip, how they deal with being sick or in pain, how they speak to other people they’re not so motivated to impress. This isn’t breaking love down to its essentials – its trivialising it into something you can package yourself for.”

Cas noticed that Dean was staring at him, but unlike most times Cas tried to talk through TV that Dean had on, the look he was receiving for this infraction was painfully fond.

It was difficult to look at, so Cas turned back to the TV.

“Y’know its just a dumb show, right, Cas?”

“I know, but I also know that they’re going to make some of the people get married, and that seems cruel when its so obvious that none of these marriages are going to work.”

“So by your metric, we’d be ok getting married in a month, because _we_ know each other’s real world flaws, right?”

The room seemed to still, though the inane chatter on the TV continued, and the upstairs dishwasher seemed to have started moving again. Eventually, still too frightened to look his roommate in the eye again, Cas gestured in front of them. “Well we’d certainly be better matched than Jessica and either of her suitors.”

Dean snorted. “Oh, just wait until you see what happens there.”

 _Now_ Cas could look at Dean. “You’re _rewatching_ this?”

“I’m sick!” Squirming further under his side of the covers, Dean coughed loudly. “And I wanted to hear what you had to say about it,” he added on a mumble.

Cas knew that shouldn’t warm him as much as it did. It was probably just because he was already starting to go strange without other regular human contact. But the idea of Dean watching this horrible show for a second time just to watch his reactions made him almost want to well up.

A few moments later they watched the loading screen for the next episode start up and did nothing to stop it.


	5. Day 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean makes a proposition.

_Love is Blind_ was playing on the TV again and these people were meeting each other’s parents, but Cas was definitely not watching that. He was applying for a job that almost definitely wasn’t still hiring. Or he was trying to figure out if he knew how to make tortillas. Or he was emailing a hotel about why they weren’t using their empty rooms to help the thousands without housing in the city.

He was definitely doing something productive with one of the tabs open on his laptop and definitely not concentrating on the screen.

“…Should I be staging an intervention here?”

Cas didn’t turn. “Shut up. I’m not really watching it.”

“Liar.” Cas registered the couch creaking under Dean’s weight as he rolled onto it and had to smile. “Tortillas, huh?”

“I feel certain you used to complain about _my_ lack of adherence to personal space.”

Now with his head lying almost on Cas’s lap, Dean made a face. “It’s been a while since then.”

It had been almost two and a half years since Dean had given Cas his set of keys to their first apartment together, and a few days after that that Dean had made the comment.

“Cas?”

“Mmm?” Cas might have dragged his eyes away from Dean’s only to become distracted by the TV again.

“C’mon, put it on pause, I wanna ask you something.”

Hating to admit his reluctance, Cas picked up the remote. As he moved to set it down again, Dean caught his wrist in an attempt to take it from him. It felt like his skin was burning, pleasantly, from the touch, and Cas knew that Dean’s fever was gone, so it wasn’t that.

“What?”

“Remember what Ruby said yesterday?”

Cas screwed up his face in concentration. “About the primaries?”

“No, about… making money.”

Raising his eyebrows, Cas shut his laptop and crossed his arms, leaning back on the sofa. “Did she find someone who wants to buy our feet pics?”

“No,” Dean growled. Then Cas started to notice how twitchy his roommate had become. He knew from impoverishing experience that Dean was an excellent poker player, but he did have some tells, and all of them were on full display now.

Whatever Dean was trying to say, it was making him very, very nervous.

“Look, I looked into those sites she was talking about. The ones that pay for home videos of people getting themselves off.”

“Do I need to be hearing about this particular internet browse?”

“She’s right, they do pay out more for a full-on sex tape.”

Cas had no idea where he was supposed to look now. Dean had twisted around and sat himself up so that where had been the safe space to stare was now occupied by Dean’s face. “Well, that’s… great. You can call Gordon or someone after all this, and…”

“Cas, I don’t wanna push you into something… but she’s right. We’re hot, we’re right here, and we’re both very, very broke.”

“You think I’m hot?”

Cas had intended it as a light joke to stop things from becoming so serious. He wasn’t expecting Dean to blush like his fever had just returned with a vengeance.

“I just think it could be something to, y’know, think about. Pay’s fast, you’re good with a camera, we have absolutely nothing to do for over a fucking week, and your chipmunk cheeks are bound to go down soon…”

“I think engaging in sex work with someone you live with is a bad idea on a lot of different levels,” Cas said slowly, wishing his heartrate would start to slow along with his words. He would be lying if he claimed he hadn’t thought about sleeping with Dean before. He was very attractive, and it had been a long time before Cas had taken anyone home himself. He wasn’t really one for going out anymore, and he despised dating apps. And then Dean would be right there, making a lot of noise through their thin walls, wandering into their kitchen in his boxers with his hair all mussed up...

Cas had definitely thought about it.

Which was partly why he was so certain it was a bad idea.

(Especially like _this_. Not that Cas had spent any time thinking about the right way would be, could go, but he was pretty sure _this_ wasn’t it - if he _had_.)

Dean shrugged. Shrugged. Like this wasn’t a big deal. “Just trying to show some solidarity. I mean it’s both our rent.”

“Things might become… awkward.”

“Only if we let it.”

“Our friends might see it. Our future bosses might see it.”

“Like a one in a million chance.”

“If I start to make it with my music, I could have people digging back to find this kind of thing.”

“You can just say you’re uncomfortable with this kind of money-making if you are,” Dean said, kindly not pointing out what the chances were of Cas’s music ever starting to take off. “Like that is still totally cool.”

Cas didn’t want to get into the ins-and-outs of why he was or wasn’t comfortable with sex work at this point, not with Dean, not right now. “…You’re a loud kisser.”

“What? I am not!”

“Dean, I’ve heard it through the walls sometimes.”

“Well maybe it wasn’t lips you were listening in on, perv.”

“Again, I wasn’t listening _willingly_. And I’ve seen you – _heard_ you – with your “guests” in the mornings. It doesn’t make me feel confident about the sex when I’m not even sure that you can handle the most basic of foreplay, I’m sorry, Dean.” It might have started out as lame excuse, but Cas was starting to very much enjoy the depth at which Dean seemed to be taking this fully to heart.

“Ok, this is bullshit.”

“It’s based on my real observations…”

“Because all I’m hearing is challenge.”

Cas froze as Dean pushed himself towards Cas on the couch, and then paused, palms wide and ready to cup Cas’s face. “Y’gonna let me defend my honour here?”

Swallowing, Cas just about remembered how to string a sentence together. “This is probably not the best way of containing the virus.”

Dean treated him to a blast of that formidable Winchester smile, which was even more effective when applied this close. “Aw, buddy, y’gotta know it’s too late to worry about that.”

And then he leaned in, his hands cradling Cas’s chin. One finger stroked up over Cas’s growing quarantine stubble like it was trying to imprint the placement of every follicle to memory.

It wasn’t loud. Lips weren’t smacked. Cas’s lower lip was tugged away from him, tenderly.

His brain had just about had enough of a chance to catch up enough to allow his mouth to reciprocate when Dean started pushing his hand not stroking Cas’s chin up through his hair, massaging Cas’s head with long, certain fingers.

And then Dean pulled away.

“Sorry for the gross sickness breath, but can we leave my foreplay skills alone now?”

Resisting the urge to put fingers to his lips, Cas drew back. “Yes, I think we can.” He took a steadying breath. “Do you always settle disagreements like that?”

Dean grinned, his green eyes sparkling with more life than Cas had seen in them in weeks. “Would it make you start laying off about me forgetting to buy toilet paper if it was?”

…No. Definitely not.

Cas mustered a smile. “Let me… think about this.”

Then, without even taking his laptop, Cas retreated to his bedroom, and immediately leant back on the door for support.

That had been… unexpected.

It had been _good_. But Dean kissing him and them both apparently enjoying that was not conducive to an easy living situation. Not when it was so very clear that Dean didn’t suffer these same heart palpitations at this kind of change in their everyday routine – if he did feel anything like Cas was, he wouldn’t be able to do what he just did. He certainly wouldn’t be able to suggest that they start sleeping together, for money they might get for that via the internet.

Would he?

Moving to flop down on his unmade bed, Cas smacked his forehead. He really was cursed with the most infuriating, ridiculous of roommates.

Who though Cas wasn’t hiding from, he did find a reason not to move from his bed from the next few hours. It was scrolling twitter endlessly.

And then the long number for a bill someone uninsured had received for their coronavirus treatment rather rudely appeared on his screen.

Dean was definitely right about one thing. They were both broke, and living in a very expensive world.


	6. Day 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas has some conditions.

“Good news! I think I’m healthy again.”

Cas squinted suspiciously as he joined Dean on the couch, cereal bowl in hand. “I don’t think it’s supposed to go that quickly.”

“Well maybe it’s not The Virus I had.”

Starting to chew, Cas pointed at his now comically swollen neck glands. “I really do hope not, Dean.”

Dean looked like he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to laugh or express sympathy. Cas knew the feeling, he’d had to see himself in the mirror several times that morning and he looked like someone in a bad comedy movie, he just wasn’t sure what the joke would have been. He certainly didn’t look like someone Dean would lean over and kiss.

(But he was. Dean had leaned over to kiss him _on this couch_.)

“Sorry if that was my fault.”

“I think we both know it was your fault, Dean.”

Dean pretended to look chastened, but he was still paying a lot of wide-eyed attention to Cas. It was unnatural, and Cas knew what had to be coming next.

“So… Have you thought anything more about… y’know…”

“Making amateur porn with you?”

“Yeah.”

Cas sighed. Then he reached for his notebook. And pulled up The List.

“Is that…”

Waving the reporter’s notebook towards Dean’s face Cas started smiling slightly in resignation. “This is me considering it.

Clapping his hands together, once, Dean leaned forwards with new eagerness. “Dude, this is great, you’re onboard, let’s roll.”

“I didn’t say onboard,” Cas corrected him, raising a finger.

“Alright, talk me through the reservations then, buddy.”

“We need to establish firm boundaries, and rules.”

Raising his eyebrows, Dean craned his neck, trying to read Cas’s writing on the pad. “Wait is this like a contract? Like a Fifty Shades Contract?”

“Like a what?”

“Nothing.”

“We need to keep this strictly work. It’s a one-time thing, unless we talk about it first. with pre-discussed scripting.”

“No offense, but I don’t rate either of us as screenwriters, buddy.”

“Not scripting like that, scripting like deciding everything we’re going to do before we do it. Who’s going to do what, and when.”

“So, like who’s going to be the one to…”

“Don’t you dare finish that hand gesture,” Cas said sternly. “But yes. Along with everything we’d be into. Likes, dislikes.”

“Turn-ons, turn-offs.”

“Yeah.”

“You sound all serious, like you’ve done this before.”

Cas shot Dean a look before directing his gaze back to his notes. He was actually finding it difficult to read his own notes.

“ _Have_ you done this before?”

“Not exactly.”

“What’s that mean.”

“No offense, Dean, but I don’t really feel like going into at the moment.”

“Dude, I’m sorry, I was just meaning that if you’ve had experience -”

“I ran away from home at seventeen, Dean. Shockingly, I didn’t exactly fall into a purpose-built security system. I spent a lot of time surfing couches.” Sometimes the couch had been free from a friend, and sometimes it hadn’t exactly been.

“Ok, so turn-ons,” Dean said, seeming determined to move the conversation back to lighter topics. “Lemme guess: you tried the whipped cream thing once and it didn’t work out.”

“Literally everyone has done that.”

“Alright. Thoughts on handcuffs?”

“Dean, this isn’t supposed to be about naming things we’ve tried, we just want to be able to figure out what will work for us both and look good on camera.”

“…Handcuffs?”

“What about them?”

“Thoughts on ‘em?”

“What do you think?”

“I think you’ve enjoyed being in ‘em before, but you’d _prefer_ to see someone in them.”

Cas said nothing.

“I’m right. Now do me.”

“You’re into nipple play.”

Dean blinked. “…how’d you figure that?”

“Statistically likely. And you enjoy wearing lingerie.”

“ _How_ -”

“Dean, I have done your laundry on multiple occasions, how do you think?”


	7. Day 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas does research.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for slipping up on the scheduling, and for this still being a short one but I'm gonna try to get back into daily updates from here. 
> 
> I guess this contains spoilers for Love is Blind?? (yes i watched the whole thing in a day what of it)

Cas jolted at the knock on his bedroom door.

“Cas? Buddy, you decent in there?”

 _No,_ Cas thought, a little frantically as he pulled his duvet cover back over his rapidly tenting pyjama pants. But, weird as this was, he’d been wanting to show Dean what he was watching… And things weren’t supposed to be weird, right? They’d made a deal. No weirdness.

It was just getting a lot harder to remember what was weird for them when normal kept shifting from under their feet.

“Door’s open!”

_Why had he said that? They’d never had any fucking locks…._

“Hey,” Dean said, clutching a hand around the door. “Still on the _Love is Blind_ kick?”

“No, finished that yesterday.”

Dean shook his head. “Dark horse Kelly. Just did not see that one coming.”

“Neither did Kenny.”

“It does make sense it didn’t work out though – names are too similar.”

“Why would that mean anything?”

Shuddering melodramatically, Dean strolled into Cas’s room, like he thought it had twice as much floor space. “Too twee. So what’cha doin’?”

Cas glanced up, concentrating hard on not letting blood rush to his face. “I’m doing research.”

Dean’s eyebrows raised. “ _Research_? What like some music…” He walked around to jump onto Cas’s bed next to him. “Ohhhhhhhhh.” Dean burst out laughing. “Is that we’re calling this?”

“Look, if we want to do this well, we have to look into what’s successful on the same site. This one has some of the highest number of hits for a video containing two men, and I’m trying to figure out what’s working for them.”

“What “If you want to do something do it right”? You sound like my Dad.”

Cas shot him a look, choosing to continue to ignore the amateur porn currently paused on his laptop. “Dean, I am very accepting but I am not engaging in a Daddy Kink scene with you.”

Dean winced. “Honestly, even hearing you say the words is too much, ugh.”

Cas narrowed his eyes. “Good too much or bad too much?”

“Ok, leave it alone, we’re done with the turn-ons game.”

Dean's eyes continued to be drawn, almost magnetically, back to Cas’s crotch, where Cas _knew t_ hat nothing was showing.

“Well…. Lemme know your notes, I guess. I’ll let you get back to your _research_.”

“Dean?”

“What?”

“Please stop looking at my crotch.”

“Why?” Dean’s lips curled up slowly from one corner. “Not like you’re keeping any secrets much longer.”

Cas sighed. “Get out of my room, Dean.”

“C’mon. One peak.”

“ _Dean_.”

*

“You used the last of our pasta supplies on… this?”

Dean stabbed his ladel into the baked cheese. “This is my world famous macaroni, and I am not gonna hear any criticism on it, so shut up.”

“It’s good,” Cas admitted after his first mouthful.

“Doesn’t it get tiring having to admit that you’re wrong about my cooking?”

Cas raised his fork. “Well, I’m getting good meals cooked out of it.”

Dean’s mouth hung open. “Alright, that’s fair. So how did research go?”

It had been difficult to focus on after Dean had left him alone with it, that was for sure.

“Research went… ok. But I still don’t really get what the most popular videos are doing other than good camerawork and the possession of athletic bodies.”

Dean grimaced. “Should I work out for this?”

“No, you’ll be fine.”

Dean sat up a little straighter in his chair. “Oh yeah?”

“You’re conventionally attractive, we’ve gone over this already.”

“Well, why don’t you tell me more about that?”

“Praise kink,” Cas noted, not looking up.

“Hey, I told you to _stop doing that_.”

“I can’t help it if you’re just handing these to me.”

Dean choked on his food, and met Cas’s eyes, smiling. Cas just didn’t get tired of making Dean laugh. Whatever happened next between them, he wasn’t sure he could go back to a daily routine where that wasn’t something he was aiming for.

Which probably meant he should stop worrying about their having sex. Clearly, it wasn’t the factor changing things between them. Everyday they spent stuck together Cas was finding himself feeling more dependent on what Dean thought of him, simply because he understood better who Dean was, and he wanted to think he’d become one of those people Dean cared so much about.

But Cas was still absolutely worrying about the sex. Almost as much as he was looking forward to it and _God_ , he wished he wasn’t.

“So, we talk it over tonight, film tomorrow?”

Intellectually, Cas had been aware that after deciding this was a thing they were actually going to do that they were going to have to actually do it. But to go, ok, tomorrow. That was different.

“So…” Dean started dragging his fork in circles around his clean bowl. “I know we’ve not exactly talked about it yet, but in the spirit of your _scripting_ …”

“Yes?”

“You’re topping, right?”

Cas had to bite down on his lower lip to stop himself from smiling. “That works out fine for me,” he said, hoping that it didn’t sound like he’d been thinking about hundreds of different possibilities of how they could arrange them. How all of them appealed, because all of them would enjoy him finally getting Dean to moan out his name the way he had for the dozens of other people he’d been with in the time Cas had been living with him.

“ _Fine_? We’re not aiming for _fine_. We are aiming for a passion that is going to break the internet and make us some money.”

“We are absolutely not aiming to break the internet - we still have lives to get back to after this which will not be improved by known careers in porn.”

“ _Do we_ though?”


	8. Day 8

Hand delving deep into a bag full of M&Ms, Dean stopped in his tracks when he saw Cas walk into the room. “Fuck, that swelling really hasn’t gone anywhere yet has it?”

Which hadn’t been far off from Cas’s reaction when he’d looked in the mirror that morning.

“Suffice to say, I’m not exactly filming ready yet,” Cas grumbled, touch his fingertips to his painfully throbbing neck glands.

“Well I am!”

Meaningfully, Cas ran his eyes up and down the bath-robe, the bag of chocolate, the bed-hair, and perched himself on the back of the couch. “Yeah?”

“Oh, y’know what I mean, I got all prepped, or whatever.”

Cas hadn’t known what he’d meant, but now felt like an idiot for not catching on quicker.

Dean swung his eyes up, faux-innocent, towards the ceiling. “Seems like a shame to waste the effort.”

Cas sighed, trying to pretend that Dean’s expression hadn’t already succeeded in charming him. “I guess there couldn’t be any harm in a practice run, to try and figure out the _mechanics_ of everything.”

 _Don’t read into this,_ Cas ordered himself as he watched his roommate’s face light up like a firework. “Well, exactly – I know you’ve got the whole perfectionist work ethic going on, and it seems like we’re not gonna hit that the first time. We wanna get all the messy and awkward out of the way first.”

Cas nodded. It was strange, standing across from someone and agreeing that sleeping with them was the sensible and practical way of spending both your days. Specifically, when that person suggesting it had already succeeded in giving you those mythical stomach butterflies all the _Love is Blind_ couples kept declaring they were searching for.

“Where?”

“My room’s tidier.”

Cas glowered. “Mine can be tidied if it needs to be. Besides, the lighting’s bad in your room.”

“Well it’s not any better in yours.” Dean set his now empty bag of M&Ms down on the kitchen counter. “What about the couch?”

Cas nodded slowly. “Gets the most of the natural light through the day. Easier to stage some kind of opening scenario.”

“Scenario?” Dean grinned. “What, one of us is the studious lounger, the other one could coax them out of their book…”

“You’d look good in my reading glasses.”

“What? You’re gonna be the nerd.”

Cas shook his head, biting down on his lip. “No, Dean, it was your idea and I think you’ve got this covered.”

Which is how, a few hours later Cas was in clothes and walking into their living space on cue.

“And… Action,” Dean called out, and Cas heard the click of him touching the camera buttons. They’d decided it could only help to see what they looked like on film, better allowing them to decide how they could improve things the next day. Cas had to ignore that the idea of watching a tape of them back with Dean was already getting him warmed up enough to forget how ill and exhausted he felt.

“Hey,” Cas said, unable to stop himself from smiling a little at the sight of Dean, a brightly-jacketed Ray Bradbury book resting on his crossed-over knee, and Cas’s wide-rimmed reading glasses slipping down his freckled nose.

Dean looked up, looking every inch the surprised academic. “Hello.” Then he wrinkled his nose as he let the book hang slack in his fingers, immediately breaking character. “Wait, does this feel too staged for amateur -”

Cas hadn’t meant to swoop down like he did. He’d just never given himself permission to think about kissing his roommate before, and now that he finally had it, holding back for even another second felt impossible. And it was just too endearing, knowing that after suggesting this character building that Dean wasn’t able to keep to it, and that thought kept Cas’s mind occupied as he gently, but firmly, guided Dean’s chin up towards him.

He tugged on Dean’s lower lip just like Dean had so enjoyed doing to him, days ago. “Put down the book, Dean,” he said, letting his voice lower to something close to growl.

A smile fluttered across Dean’s face. “ _Someone_ likes taking control…”

“Damn right.”

Dean put down the book.

Cas felt a little awkwardness return to him as he paced back around to Dean’s side of the couch, but the look on Dean’s face kept him relaxed. Dean was clearly enjoying this already, and Cas was doing that, so he felt on top of the world as he sat down and pinned one hand across Dean’s body to the couch arm he was resting on. “Take off your pants.”

Dean looked like he wanted to laugh, but immediately thought better of it. “Yes, _sir_ …”

Watching only Dean’s face as his roommate scrambled out of his jeans, Cas tried to think about what his next move should be. They hadn’t exactly planned out too far, despite his encouragement towards “scripting”, but things seemed to be progressing well enough by them just winging it.

But they hadn’t got very far yet. And for some reason Dean was expecting a lot from him.

What if they had to have a conversation later in which Dean told him he sucked at this, that this was all a terrible idea? Cas also thought it was a terrible idea, but he wouldn’t now be able to live like this if he was told to abandon it entirely.

Trying his best to shut his mind off, Cas leaned back in for another kiss. Though it was awkward, keeping himself close enough to Dean without blocking the camera’s view, Cas felt his mind ease again. It would sound pathetic to say aloud, but Dean kissed like he trusted him.

And because this was amateur porn, which could be as loving and domestic as it liked, and for obviously no other reason, Cas indulged in kissing Dean softly all over his face – his nose, his cheek, then down to the crook of his neck. And Dean just stared and stared like Cas could do anything to him and Dean still wouldn’t move.

“So, tell me about your book,” Cas said, surprised that he still sounded as even as he did.

“It’s uh… it’s good,” Dean got out, voice hitching as Cas started stroking his cock through his boxers.

“What’s it about?”

“Aliens,” Dean said, a smile threatening to pull his lips right up as he bucked right up into Cas’s palm.

Carefully, Cas sat himself up and used his free hand to pry his glasses off of Dean’s face.

Dean blinked, eyes widening gratefully. “Oh, thank God, I was getting a headache”

“Be patient, we’re about to leave you with better aches.”

Dean burst out laughing.

“Too much?”

“In a good way,” Dean assure him, and craned his neck up, wordlessly begging. Cas didn’t lean back down this time, but slowly started unbuttoning Dean’s shirt.

“How come I’m the only one showing any skin?”

“What did we say about patience?”

Seeing the twin prizes Cas had been looking for, he smirked and started circling his fingers over Dean’s nipples, enjoying the ensuing noises that brought out so much that he soon was twisting and pulling much more intensely with one hand, while he brought his mouth to the other one.

“Fuck me…”

Cas eased off. “We’re getting to that.”

Dean stared in disbelief. “ _Where_ are all these jokes coming from, man?”

“You must be infectious,” Cas said solemnly, and returned to his task, letting his tongue tease more rapidly before biting down.

“You – you don’t get to say shit like that when we do this for real, alright?”

Cas said nothing, and reached down for the lube left down on the floor. “Letting me do whatever I like to you but constraining my freedom of speech, interesting…” He looked at the bottle in his hands. “Wait, _strawberry_?”

Dean reddened. “Look, I didn’t exactly stock up for this, and it’s not like you’ve pooled in any supplies.”

“Fair.” Getting a good amount on his fingers, Cas dropped the bottle and went back to twisting Dean’s nipples, already finding the smell too much, but looking for one last good reaction.

“Ok, now cut that out or this is gonna come to a head a lot faster than you’re looking for.”

“I don’t know,” Cas mused, not letting up. “In the interest of science, I’d like to see what -”

Dean gasped for breath, and Cas filed the noise away deep into his memory. “Let go my nipples, asshole.”

“One moment,” Cas entreated, allowing himself one lick. “The taste is… bearable.”

“Well that doesn’t need to be relevant.”

“I beg to differ.”

Getting back to his feet, Cas looked around for something to wipe his hands on. “You should take your boxers off.”

“Why don’t you take _anything_ off.”

“I will, I just don’t want to get my clothes all sticky and strawberry-smelling.”

“Oh, so your clothes got to keep good, I see how it is…”

Smiling to himself, Cas walked out of frame to wash his hands in the kitchen sink, and then felt the urge to splash the cold water over his face. This was real, it was happening. And it seemed to be going… well?

Yes, he told himself firmly, it was going well, and he could keep himself together for the end of this practice run, and –

Cas walked back and saw that Dean’s well-photographed foot was bare and hooked over the back of the couch.

Oh, he was definitely going to struggle keeping anything together.

Slowly, Cas circled back to the end of the couch, getting the full effect of his very naked roommate, now with shining, hard nipples. And a cock that looked as if it had been getting equal amounts of attention.

“Fuck me like one of your French girls?”

“That is not the line,” Cas managed, hurrying to get out of his own clothes, all pretence of calm rapidly leaving him.

When he was as nude as Dean, Cas sat up on the end arm of the chair, still feeling overwhelmed. Dean was definitely enjoying laying himself out like a feast for Cas to appreciate.

“What was that you were saying about tasting?” Dean asked, fingers idly circling his nipples.

“What was that you were saying about leaving your nipples alone?”

Dean raised his hands up. “Hey, you started it!”

“I didn’t tell you to stop.” Cas bit down on his lip. Couch sex had sounded like a good idea, but now it felt squeaking and awful. And the logistics hadn’t become any easier now that they were in the middle of things.

“Hold on,” Cas mumbled, reaching his arms forward and around Dean’s waist to pull his hips forwards and up so that Dean’s knees were laid over the chair arm that Cas had just been sitting on.

“Ok…”

Cas grabbed for the lube again, grateful that his fingers hadn’t started shaking as he felt they should be by now.

“Fuck, that’s cold.”

Cas bent in with his tongue, trailing, it up from Dean’s hole over his balls, stroking his hands reassuringly up and down Dean’s thighs as he did so. He really didn’t usually like the taste of artificial strawberries, but he decided that he could definitely be made to grow used to it.

“Warming up for you yet?”

“You’re such a _dick_.”

But Dean went quiet as Cas went to work opening him up. Much as he was desperate to move things along, Cas took his time. He could have spent hours watching Dean’s hips move every time Cas hooked his finger in just the right way, the way Dean’s eyelids shuddered close and his mouth would open on a silent moan.

“Dean?”

“Nng?”

“Where did you leave the condoms?”

“Ugh…” Dean blinked. “Coffee table.”

“Where – _ah_.”

 _Now_ Cas’s hands were shaking a little, but that could have just been from the recent effort of overuse. It felt like it had never taken him so long to get a condom on in his life.

“Hmm.”

“Having second thoughts?” Dean asked, eyebrows raised as he watch Cas attempt to position himself over him.

“Trying to figure out what’s the most secure way of managing this…”

Dean pouted as he obligingly wriggled himself away from the edge of the couch. “Ok, we good?”

“Ask me nicely.”

“Please, Cas,” Dean begged, but then grinned. “Quit fucking around and get on in here.”

“…guide me in?”

“See that kinda ruins the whole ask me nicely order, _holy shit,_ dude, you feel _huge_.”

“Needing more stretching?” Cas asked, concern breaking through the euphoria threatening to overwhelm him. He was barely inside, but he felt like he’d been pushed back into having a teenager’s hair-trigger responses.

“No, just… ease on in there.” Dean grinned in what looked like relief. “You feel amazing.”

“You feel pretty amazing too,” Cas said, wishing he hadn’t apparently ran through all his smart one-liners already. “But could we just… shift a little? I feel like I’m going to fall off the couch.”

“See now that’s the kind of awkward mess it’s good to get gone before the main film – oh _shit_ ,” Dean gasped as Cas pushed his leg right back in a V.

“Like that?”

“Just please fucking _move_ already, _please_.”

It was difficult to get into a rhythm when he was concentrating so hard in keeping Dean’s legs up and on not falling off the couch, but Dean was working hard to help him as much as possible, so he wasn’t forced into doing all the work.

“Cas, I’m -” Dean eventually whined, his fingers scrabbling for grip on Cas’s back.

“You gonna come for me?”

Cas had been sure Dean was just going to curse at him for that, but, for some reason it was all too effective as a line. Unable to hold back any longer, Cas came moments behind him. If it hadn’t been for Dean’s rapidly flopping legs, Cas would have collapsed on top of him.

How many times had he fantasised about having Dean on that exact couch? About Dean moaning out his name? The world should have shifted, changed in colour palette, started singing – _something_. Cas was literally living in a fantasy, and he’d never felt so exhilarated in his whole life.

And he had no idea what to do next.

He’d honestly expected to flee, after. They’d said things wouldn’t get weird, but how couldn’t they?

But Dean didn’t let him flee, and he didn’t let things get weird. He clung onto Cas’s back, stroking circles around his vertebrae, and stared right into his eyes. Not sure how to look away, Cas leaned in towards him, getting dangerously close to the wet patch over Dean’s torso.

“So… For someone I _know_ hasn’t gotten any in months… that feels like you practiced some of that.”

Cas laughed, surprised enough to start easing himself out. He really was getting too old and stiff for clinging on to the backs of couches.

But he really had barely noticed. Cheesy as it sounded, in the middle of things, everything else around him had just faded out. Reality was definitely making itself felt again however, Cas noted as he awkwardly stood up and cracked his neck. Dean however seemed to have no interest in doing anything but lying there watching Cas ease the condom off his dick.

“The ordering around and everything was _hot_ , but I think we’ve still got room for improvement.”

“How would you suggest that?”

“…props.”

Cas forced his brain not to think too much into that. Everything still felt too sensitive to allow for any further mental short-circuiting. He was definitely not going to think about whatever “props” it was that Dean apparently had to hand - he was going to think about literally anything else…

“We should probably clean up the couch.”

Dean snorted. “Maybe clean up ourselves first? But if you’re so keen I keep the wipes for it under the sink.”

Narrowing his eyes, Cas walked over to the sink. It was bizarre, just hanging around naked in his home, not having to worry about Dean walking in on him because Dean was very much the reason for it.

“You don’t usually clean the couch.”

“I clean lots of things you don’t know about.”

“…Have you used the couch for sex before.”

Dean sat up so his head was visible over the back of the couch. “Jealous?”

“Just a little disgusted…”

“Hey, I clean it _well_. Unlike you when I ask you to clean the shower. And, speaking of showers,” Dean added, getting to his feat and awkwardly massaging his own cum into his skin. “You wanna join me for one?”

Cas smiled, but knew that his expression had to be strained. “I think I’m gonna clean up the couch.”

Dean shrugged. “Suit yourself,” he sighed, and started walking away like he believed he was walking a catwalk.

Cas tried very had not to stare at him as he walked away, then collapsed onto the couch himself.

He needed… a minute.


	9. Day 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean sets a ground rule.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a wee short one before a few more long ones.
> 
> Thanks so much to everyone following along! Hoping you're all keeping safe out there <3

**_Any good?_ **

Cas read the text, and then rolled his eyes and almost threw his phone away. He’d had to tell _someone_. After Dean had left for the shower, he realised that he couldn’t keep a life-changing moment like that to himself – especially when he couldn’t exactly talk to Dean about it.

Meg was probably his closest friend, and she’d often teased him about having a thing for a roommate, so he thought she’d have something to say about being proved right. He wasn’t exactly looking for advice, because he wasn’t sure he trusted Meg to give him any, but he was needing to hear at least an indication of what she thought of the whole situation.

But fifteen hours after he’d texted her, _that_ was all she had to say. He probably needed better friends.

“Cas?”

“What?”

“I’m coming in to raid your clothes,” Dean announced, opening Cas’s bedroom door. “Oh, dude, you still look like you swallowed two jawbreakers down pipes you don’t even have.”

Yeah, he definitely needed better friends. “Thanks.”

Dean shrugged, beelining towards Cas’s closet as Cas rubbed at his painful chin. “No filming today works for me. Still have things to figure out.”

“And that involves my clothes?”

Dean held out an old sweater of Cas’s, regarding it intensely before flinging it down on Cas’s bed. “You’ve got nerdier things to wear. And I figured the glasses and reading idea could be something to riff on.”

Cas opened his mouth to protest but thought better of it. “I’ve got a tweed waistcoat somewhere in there,” he admitted.

“I fucking knew it, where?”

Obligingly, Cas got to his feet and leaned into the closet next to Dean, inhaling in the scent of his aftershave. He’d never liked this one much, but it was starting to grow on him.

“So what other props did you plan to incorporate?” Cas asked, and immediately regretted it. He was standing far too close to his roommate to allow that to remain an innocent question.

Smirking at him briefly before turning back to the clothes, Dean fiddled with the sleeve of Cas’s shirt, almost like he hadn’t noticed it was something being worn and not hung up. “…I’ve got a plug in a drawer somewhere. Figured that might add some extra levels.”

Cas shook his head and dove in, spotting the offending waistcoat in question. “This do?”

“That’s perfect.”

Narrowing his eyes, Cas handed Dean the hanger and moved to sit down again. “I’ve never seen you become such a perfectionist about anything.”

“I keep telling you, man, I got depths.”

“You like being shown off, don’t you?”

Dean didn’t turn, but Cas knew that his face was reddening.

“Is it just the idea of all these people watching you that does it for you…?”

Clutching the waistcoat to his chest like a shield, Dean turned around. “Uh, you do not get to say that kinda shit when the camera’s not rolling. _Especially_ not in that voice.”

Cas blinked, amused. “What voice?”

“You know exactly what voice I’m talking about, and I am telling you right now that it is _banned_ from this apartment unless you’re planning on putting out.”

Not sure how to react to the unexpected clause added to Dean’s demand, Cas folded his arms. “Whatever you say, Dean. Just let me know if it fits.”

Dean held up the waistcoat. “What, this or the plug? Because I mean, it’s my plug, I know _that’s_ gonna fit…”

“ _Dean_.”

“You’re doing the voice again!”


	10. Day 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Filming Day

“So who was the best you ever had?”

“The best _what_ I ever had.” Cas felt something click in his head and wanted to kick himself. “Ah.”

Dean snorted, but he didn’t, to Cas’s relief, make a big thing about it, and continued to look himself over in the mirror. He was wearing Cas’s waistcoat, and a bow tie that he’d found somewhere, and, for once, had left his hair down, though he seemed to be fussing over that decision.

“I’m not sure,” Cas said, hating that his first thought for an answer was, _two days ago, on our couch, with you._

“Mine’s probably still Benny,” Dean said to the mirror.

“Benny Lafitte?”

“You didn’t know we were a thing?”

Cas had maybe chosen to selectively forget about that. “Oh, right. Benny does seem very…” He struggled, trying to think of something positive to say about Benny. It wasn’t that Cas had anything against him, but though they’d known each other for years, they’d never exactly… gelled.

Dean shook his head, and, apparently satisfied with his outfit, led the charge back through to what would again be their filming room. “We had fun. So you’re a both ways kind of guy, right?”

Cas smiled, surprised. “Yes.”

“I wasn’t sure. Actually kinda thought you might not be into people. Like – like you were ace or something, not a dick, I mean.”

“…thank you? But no, I like people. In both senses of the word. So should _I_ be wearing anything special?”

Dean leaned back against the couch, eyes skirting their way down Cas’s body. “Nah, you’re good. I’ve got an old leather jacket that might set off the bad boy thing better for you though, wait a minute.”

As Dean walked off to go hunting for his jacket, Cas leaned down on the spot he’d just vacated. All day he couldn’t stop the happy nerves building up inside of him. It didn’t even have that much to do with the sex – it didn’t _not_ have something to do with the sex, but it was ultimately about realising this project together with Dean. About working on something that mattered to them both.

Cas had definitely been stuck inside for too long.

“Alright,” Dean said, falling back into the director role he’d apparently stumbled into, “we didn’t ever block the camera too badly last time, but we need to make sure we’re thinking about it at all times The lube’s here, the condoms are here,” he added, pointing to the coffee table, next to where they had the camera posed. “I’m wearing the plug already. Anything else?”

Cas took out the box in his pocket that had arrived with them that morning, knowing that there was no way that Dean had forgotten about its existence after the energetic argument on the ethics of using Amazon Prime in a crisis to deliver sex toys.

Dean swallowed, but Cas could see the interest on his face. “You get the batteries for ‘em.”

“Of course.”

“Great, then I guess we’re ready to roll again.” He looked thoughtfully at the couch. “If we wanted to add in music to this in edit, what would we add?”

“I think we could be another week deciding that.”

“True. You’ve got shitty taste.”

“And you wonder why I don’t play for you.”

“I mean you play good when it’s your own songs. It’s just your choice in covers I’m questioning. And, rightly.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Cas, last time I heard you practice anything it was a John Denver song, don’t test me on this.”

Cas didn’t have anything to say to that.

(He’d always found Denver’s voice very comforting.)

Everything went pretty much as it had the first time, bar the few additions. Cas saw Dean sitting there, wearing his clothes, his glasses, and he melted. Dean leaned up into Cas’s kiss like he’d been sitting at home missing him, and not sitting no further than 30 feet away from him for the better part of ten days.

Then they got to Cas unbuttoning Dean’s waistcoat and shirt, and Cas reached for the nipple clamps. The batteries were necessary because they vibrated. But since Cas had only tried them out on his fingers so far, he was nervous in actually putting them to their correct use, but Dean looked at him like he didn’t have any worries – like Cas could do whatever he liked to him and he’d just lie there staring at him.

Of course, when Cas actually got the clamps on Dean clearly had to hold himself back from spewing a lot of interesting profanities for the camera.

Cas left him lying there, biting his lip raw as he shuffled his shoulders out of Dean’s jacket, and was stunned, again, by the sight of Dean lying naked on their leather couch – something he knew the thought of would have managed to infuriated him only a week of.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” Cas said, and then realised that he’d said this aloud, and, worse, that he’d meant it.

But it was just… true. Dean was always attractive, but he never normally looked like this – like he was completely vulnerable in ways that had nothing to do with how naked he was. Exposed, and revelling in that.

Dean strained focus on him with half-lidded eyes. “ _Please,_ Cas.”

That specifically wrecked voice threatened to completely undo Cas, but he teased the plug out of Dean. It was bigger and pinker than Cas had been expecting, but he refrained from making jokes, and told himself that was for the camera. “Whatever you need.”

Cas did keep some awareness in his mind for the fact they were filming, but he didn’t really consciously become aware of it until after Dean came and set him off in turn as clenched around Cas so perfectly. For a few moments all they did was stare. He knew he would eventually need to, but Cas couldn’t bear to break that eye-contact, break the strange spell they’d crafted around them. Like they might be the only people left in the world.

So Dean moved first.

“Aaaaand cut!” Dean said, serving Cas a face-splitting grin. “I think that’s us, buddy.”

Cas tried to match that smile, he did. This was a _good_ thing. They’d both clearly enjoyed themselves, they were going to have rent money, and they’d finished the bulk of the work on something they’d worked hard on.

But Cas looked away, and didn’t know how to look back.


	11. Day 11

“Look I’m not saying I’m a genius, but… I’m done with it, and it’s perfect. I’d click on it.”

Cas narrowed his eyes at his roommate, who’d just finally emerged from his room, eyes rimmed red and still in pyjamas. It was almost midday.

“Did you stay up all night?”

“Not _all_ night.” Slumping down next to Cas on the couch, smiling at assumedly the concern, Dean leant back on Cas, his head on Cas’s thigh, and held up his phone. “Look!” A little thumbnail was displayed, of Dean with the glasses on, mouth hanging half open in constructed surprise. Below was a title.

**Watch nerd get RAILED by bad-boy roommate!**

Cas nodded, trying his best to ignore the weight on his leg. “Really?”

“Look, you weren’t exactly giving me many focus group ideas to work with. I had to give it some kinda name…” He looked up at Cas, tired eyes lighting up fiendishly. “Wanna watch it with me, “Bad Boy”? Get one last pair of editorial eyes to it before it goes live?”

Swallowing, Cas shook his head sharply. Listen to himself issue out those ridiculous demands? Risk disagreeing with Dean’s editing and causing the most bizarre stand-off he’d ever been involved in?

Watch him make Dean moan out his name on the same couch he’d made that happen? With Dean lying all over him like they hadn’t said a thing about boundaries before all this started?

“I trust your pair fine.”

But all day following that, Dean just wouldn’t stop with the touching. They washed and piled their mounting pile of dishes together and Dean kept slowly taking the dish right out of Cas’s hand before Cas could put it in the rack, and smiling at him like there was some joke Cas hadn’t figured out yet about to reach its punchline. Cas walked out of the kitchen and Dean playfully whacked at his ass with the dishtowel. They settled down under the covers back on their couch to watch a movie and Dean was all crouched up next to him, the tip of his hair brushing Cas’s chin.

And for the first time since they’d been stuck inside together, the claustrophobia was getting to Cas.

Technically, this was lovely. The video was uploaded, and rent would be doable. He didn’t hate the movie Dean had picked out.

And Cas wanted to scream.

Despite what Dean had accused him of only days ago, Cas was no prude. None of these touches were unpleasant, or even unwanted for him – or at least, not exactly. They just weren’t normal. It had never been _them_.

At least, it hadn’t been. Before they’d slept together and filmed it they were barely even speaking. This was new, in ways that was both exciting, uncomfortable and… frightening. For weeks it had felt like the world outside was unknowable and unpredictable, but now that sense had permeated into what should have been Cas’s sanctuary.

And, worst of all, unlike the rent, unlike the threat of hunger and illness, this wasn’t a fear Cas could bond over with Dean. Dean was the problem. Because none of this was any kind of problem to Dean – he and Cas had gotten closer, so obviously he could make this playful intimacy between them. Because that’s what it had been all along, to Dean. Play.

Which was what had always annoyed Cas about him. He never seemed to take anything seriously – especially relationships.

Dean was the worst kind of womaniser – or general _iser_ – that Cas had ever met. And now Cas was just one more in the long line of people that Dean had managed to drive crazy.

(Of course, the day before it had felt so much like Cas was the one getting to drive Dean crazy. But Dean had apparently recovered quickly from that.)

They were most of the way through the _Mask of Zorro_ when Dean leaned up and murmured, “we did it better,” for one of the kissing scenes in Cas’s ear.

“I’m sorry -I, I can’t,” Cas heard himself say as he stood up.

He was vaguely aware of Dean expressing his confusion behind him as he walked away but he couldn’t listen, couldn’t even breathe until he was in his own room with the door closed behind him.

He flopped down on his bed, suddenly extremely grateful that the light in his room wasn’t good enough for filming.

In his bedroom at least, things hadn’t changed.

(Though he probably should have cleaned. He’d always thought he would clean if he had more time to kill.

Just like he’d always thought that if he had the chance to kiss Dean, never mind anything else, that he’d be happy.

Right.)

*

Cas wouldn’t have knocked on Dean’s door after midnight, especially not when he could hear Bob Seger (which Dean tended to use to get to sleep) softly blaring but he could see the light streaming from under the door so he figured Dean was still up and around.

“Dean?”

If it was possible, Dean looked even more tired than he had earlier.

And he looked disappointed.

“What’s up?”

“Dean, I’m… I’m sorry about earlier. I behaved -” Cas flapped both his arms up uselessly, feeling oddly like a penguin.

“Like a fucking weirdo.”

“…yes. That.” Cas shook his head, hating that Dean was still looking at him like that. “I just – I hated my early life as soon as I understood what it was, but I was loved. And there was… there was always touching – and I know that sounds weird, but I just mean that leaving that behind I had to learn to live without everyone I lived with being so tactile. It had been years later when we met but you still thought I was weird, remember?”

“Definitely,” Dean said, but he was smiling a little now.

“And I was fine with that, I was, I got used to it. But now you’re all with the touching when it’s not supposed to be an intimate situation, and I’ve never been very good at reading people, Dean, and it’s – it’s too much. But in a good way. So, I’m sorry I walked out earlier, you’re, you’re right, there are a lot of things that can and should be said about Antonio Banderas when he was young.”

“Buddy, if you need a hug more often all you need to do is ask.”

Cas laughed, and realised that his eyes were starting to sting. He’d literally taken a butt plug out of Dean’s ass the day before and found it less embarrassing.

And then Dean’s arms were around him.

Although Cas hadn’t decided yet if that had been the outcome he’d been seeking, he held on back.

*


	12. Day 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meg imparts advice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short one, but I promise they do more of interest over the next few days.

Cas sighed, slumping down towards his laptop. “Well, then he gave me a hug and said he never wanted to push me into something I was uncomfortable with.”

On the screen in front of him, propped up by several thick fantasy tomes on his bed, Meg raised her eyebrows. “He thinks _he_ pushed _you_?”

“Well he did! Sort of.”

“Ok, Clarence, what’s really the issue here? Because casual hook-ups and touching or whatever was just fine when we were a thing.”

“We were friends first, and we didn’t do it for money.”

“You watched bad reality TV together and shared your coffee with him, I don’t even think we’re that close now.” Meg shook her head at him. “So how are the hits on that thing doing?”

Cas shrugged. “Well, I think.”

“You really weren’t in this for the money or fame, were you,2 Meg said dryly, continuing to shake her head. “Have you spoken to him yet?”

“…Not this morning.”

“It’s 2pm, idiot. And – hey. Words of advice for you. Some people are – what did you call it? - _Isers_ because they just like sex and fear commitment. And for some people it’s because they’re hung up on someone already.”

Cas wrinkled his nose. “No, Dean’s never shown any particular interest in any of his dates.”

“When this is all over I am going to strangle you, Clarence. Now, get out there and talk to him. _Please_.”

Taking his friend’s intensely given advice, Cas got himself dressed to go into the kitchen for his breakfast. He’d never worried about how he looked in front of Dean before, but today was different. With the nights finally getting warmer he hadn’t slept in a shirt, and currently just had a robe thrown on which all felt a little… much. Or less. But putting on clothes felt like a statement in and of itself. Everything but jeans seemed to need a wash, and after all this time at home jeans suddenly felt like he was dressing up. And he wasn’t trying to dress up for Dean. He just didn’t want to look _bad_.

Eventually he had a carefully curated casual home outfit to leave the room in, but hearing Dean’s voice stopped him before he could leave the room.

“- and I’m telling you, it didn’t work that way. We’re still friends, alright?”

Cas didn’t move a muscle, as he listened to Dean sigh in frustration.

“No, look, we’re fine. Nothing’s happening. Just quit asking about it.”

Still trying not make much of a noise, Cas let his head thunk back on the doorframe. He had no idea who Dean was on the phone to, but he had a very good idea who and what he was referring to.

Not sure if he should be bolstered or disappointed by the “Nothing’s happening” Cas waited until he heard Dean end the call and stepped out to greet him.

“Hello.”

“Afternoon, sleepy. Hey, you’re wearing jeans.”

“You wore jeans yesterday.”

“Why thank you for noticing,” Dean said, flashing him a smile as he set down a plate on the kitchen counter. Cas tried, for a moment, to imagine Dean being hung up on someone.

“Have a try of my new, improved French Toast recipe.”

“…Is that a bagel?”

“I said improved, didn’t I? And we ran out of bread, and the tortillas. All we had was freezer bagels.”

“You freeze bagels?”

“You don’t?”

Cas took the plate, retreating to the side of the kitchen. “So is the video looking… successful?”

“You haven’t checked in on it?”

“Not today.”

“It’s doing alright. Either way, we’ve definitely got enough to cover us for rent.”

Taking a bite, Cas watched Dean, still grilling himself another bagel. He never put himself first with cooking.

“This is pretty good, for a bagel.”

“I know,” Dean said, winking at him, then looking mortified. “I’m sorry was that… too much again?”

Almost spitting his food out at how sensitively Dean was trying to respect his feelings, Cas shook his head, smiling. “Hardly.”

They were quiet for a long moment, listening to the pan sizzle.

“You know what’s great about this?”

Dean turned to look at him fondly as he plated up his bagel. “What?”

“My family would be so disappointed in me.”

Dean barked out a laugh and clapped what felt like a brotherly hand down on Cas’s shoulder as he passed him to leave the kitchen. “Must be doing something right then.”


	13. Day 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean finds a housewarming gift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the longer update time - some things actually happened over the weekend and the sheer shock of that limited my productivity haha

“Hey, look what I found…” Dean sang, wandering into the room with what looked like an aged bottle of whiskey held aloft above his head.

Cas looked up from his laptop, a little mesmerised by Dean’s grinning face. He hadn’t seen him much that day so he was a little surprised seeing him make an entrance into their main room now.

“Housewarming gift from my Dad I forgot about. Wanna enjoy it with me?”

Suddenly, Cas could think of a lot of things he’d like to enjoy with Dean.

It was maddening. Every time he started to believe that things might be able to go back to something like normal, that he could get over his little fixation, Dean would be there, doing or saying something that was impossible to ignore.

“Saving that this long does not seem like you.”

Dean pouted and flopped down onto the couch. “Maybe I was saving it for a special occasion.”

“Am I missing one?”

“We get to go outside tomorrow – remember?” Tossing the bottle from hand to hand, Dean continued to smile. “We’re in the clear now.”

“We can’t really _go_ anywhere…”

“Dude, I’m excited about food shopping. I’m gonna _skip_ down that staircase tomorrow.”

“I look forward for watching you attempt that.”

“Asshole.”

Cas was no great connoisseur of whiskey, but after finishing his second glass that evening, he decided he was enjoying this particular bottle which John Winchester must have bestowed them with some years ago. He was also enjoying, shamelessly, considering their issue with it the other day, how close Dean insisted on being to him while drinking it as they continued to ignore the reality show thrown on in the background.

Dean’s breath actually smelt intoxicating now, and every moment they were on the couch together drinking it seemed like an unspoken rule that one of them had to have at least one hand on the other at all times. It was comfortable and exciting all at once, and Cas was rapidly becoming too drunk to care that he didn’t know how to react to any of it. Because for the first time since the filming, Cas felt back in control.

That is, until Dean looked at his phone.

“’t’s weird.”

“What?”

Dean continued to squint at his phone like it had a large, tropical bug crawling over it. “Bela’s texting me again.” He frowned. “Lockdown must be getting to her…”

“It’s been a year…?”

“Year and half,” said Dean still staring down at his phone. “She’s really going all in again - it’s…weird. Should I text back?”

“Do you want to?”

Dean put down the phone, and Cas thought he’d gotten better at understanding his roommate but he still just didn’t know how to interpret the look in his eye. Or, Cas didn’t dare to hope he knew what that look meant. “But _should_ I want to?”

“…much as you probably won’t be able to see her for months, you should sleep with whoever you want to. She always seemed very… impressive.”

“Impressive, huh?”

Cas nodded stoutly. “She always seems very… very sure of herself, and we know you like that.”

He wasn’t sure why he said the last part. It wasn’t said in flirtation, so it mostly came off as snide. He didn’t want to come off as snide about something which very well might make Dean happy. He might have been too cowardly to have any kind of conversation with Dean but that didn’t mean everyone had to be, and if their new friendship was ruined before it could even really start because Cas was too bitter then he’d never forgive himself.

Dean shook his head. “Fuck, how are you like the smartest guy I know and still this dumb?”

Blinking, Cas set his glass down and clutched at the couch end for support. “What?” He didn’t feel like he could be drunk enough to have lost his grip this badly on the course of the conversation. One moment they’d been discussing Dean getting a dumb text from yet another of his fleeting exes, and the next Dean seemed to be mad at him – or mad at himself?

Cas moving away to sit up also meant that neither of them had a hand on each other anymore. That anchorage had gone.

“So you’re telling me that you’ve got no problem if I call up Bela right now.”

“…Why would I have a problem with that? Dean, you’re not making any sense.”

Dean raised a finger, looking like he was trying to give Cas a lecture. “Maybe I want you to care. Would that kill you? Just for once, to give a shit?”

Feeling like the world might start making more sense if he was on his feet, Cas got off the couch and immediately bashed his leg into the coffee table. “Maybe the whiskey was a bad idea.”

“Maybe this whole money-making plan was a bad idea.”

“I’m suddenly remembering why you’re so frustrating to live with.”

“Oh, _I’m_ frustrating to live with?” Dean gave a strange laugh that didn’t suit him and go to his feet as well. “You’re just… Why d’you think I’ve never gotten serious with anyone?”

“Maybe because you’re never serious about _anything_.”

Distantly, Cas was becoming aware that they were taking things too far. But it was almost a relief – there’d been such a strange tension between them for so long that it felt good to relieve some of that – even if it was in anger.

If the lopsided grin he was wearing now meant anything, Dean seemed to be sharing that relief. “Alright, well you can bet I’m serious about this. When the world quits acting so nuts? No more living together. I don’t think we do each other any good.”

“That’s fine with me,” Cas heard himself say, knowing that it was the furthest thing from fine.

As they both stormed off into their own rooms like moody teens from a sitcom, Dean taking the bottle away with him, Cas struggled to decode the conversation. It felt critical to pinpoint where they’d come to odds.

It felt somehow right that Bela was, secondhandedly, the cause of this new, bizarre rift between them.

For the sheer principal of them using up the hot water and taking up the living space and making noise into the early morning, Cas generally disliked Dean’s dates. But Bela especially had been categorically _the worst_. She’d flirted shamelessly with Cas as well whenever he’d been around, and she’d always wanted Dean to take her out, so for the few months they’d been together he’d almost never been around.

Which, if Cas was being honest with himself, was probably the main reason he hadn’t taken to Bela.

It was childish, but he didn’t like being alone in the apartment. When Dean was away, he missed the company, even if they were barely speaking.

More specifically, he’d _missed Dean_.

Not because he missed his cooking, which he hadn’t known about then. Not because he missed the casual way Dean touched him, reached for him, because that hadn’t been something he’d done then. It definitely had nothing to do with the sex, because he’d had no idea then that he might have been lucky enough to get to have that with Dean.

He’d just missed having him around. Hearing him sing to himself when he cleaned the kitchen, the way he’d ask for Cas’s opinions on whatever he was watching, almost especially when he knew full well that Cas had no idea what was on. He’d just liked to include Cas, in casually kind ways. And then Cas would say something sarcastic and Dean would laugh or act impressed by him, and Cas would feel like the coolest person alive.

Dean, who’d wanted Cas to admit that he cared. But whatever the right words had been for Cas to say they’d never even formed in his mind.

 ** _I think I fucked up,_** he texted Meg at 11.30pm, just before getting up to use the toilet. He’d wanted to be in bed already, but through a mixture of the alcohol and crushing guilt still swimming its way through his system, sleep felt like the last thing he’d be able to do.

Then, coming back to his room through the dark hallway, he tripped over a small box. Annoyed, he picked it up and brought it into the room with him to look at.

…it was the unopened box of condoms from Sam’s care package. The box Dean had been so unexpectedly embarrassed by that he’d flung away and apparently never picked up again.

_“Your brother has a lot of faith in you, that you’d still find a way of working on your bedpost notches even in the middle of all this.”_

…faith that hadn’t been misplaced. Less than a week after that odd delivery they’d had their first filming attempt.

Huh.

Cas only realised that an hour had passed when his phone finally lit up the room with Meg’s response:

**_unfuck it then._ **

Cas put down the phone, nodding, as though Meg could see him.

He still didn’t know what he wanted to say to Dean, but he needed to say something. Being a coward until Dean inevitably started speaking to him again and they found some new kind of awkward normal wasn’t enough.

_Maybe I want you to care._

It was ridiculous. To be accused of not caring when caring so much had eaten him up from the inside so badly that he didn’t even know how to put it into words anymore. But even if they were the wrong words or if Cas was still reading this all wrong and Dean really didn’t want anything romantically to do with him he still had to say _something_.

His bedroom door seemed to creak more than it ever had as he walked back out into the hall.

“Cas?”

Dean’s voice, wavering like he was unsure about who could be creeping around their house in the middle of the night, was surprisingly coming from the living room. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Cas changed direction and rounded the corner. There Dean was again on that spot on the couch – waiting for Cas to do something.

“It’s not fine.”

“What?”

Cas cleared his throat. “I don’t want to stop living with you.”

“I never shoulda said any of that. I don’t wanna stop living with you either.” Looking exhausted, Dean gave him a smile. “You can go back to bed, Cas, we’re good.”

Cas shook his head and moved towards the nearest couch arm, suddenly filled with certainty so strong it didn’t feel as though it could belong to him. “No, we’re not. Dean…” he took a seat on the couch arm. “I thought this would be awful. I’m not mentally healthy to be locked up indoors, I might never be back in an ok position with my music again and it feels like the world is ending outside… but you’ve made these weeks fun. This place has never felt so much like a home.” He swallowed. “And it’s selfish, but I don’t want everything to go back to normal.”

Even at night, the couch got the best lighting from the street outside, but since it was shining from behind Dean it was almost impossible to make out his exact expression as he continued to hang on Cas’s every word, lips slightly parted. So, hearing no encouragements or objections, Cas ploughed on.

“I’ve probably been half in love with you since Anna introduced us. I just got used to knowing that it wasn’t ever going to be _relevant_ , and now -”

Dean and his lips moved so suddenly that Cas felt their teeth bash together and he had to pull away to breathe out a laugh. Dean was trying to kiss him – not to prove a point, and not for money. Just because of Cas and what he was saying.

“… you’re such a dork.”

“I thought I was the Bad Boy?”

“They don’t have to cancel each other out and you know it.” Dean shook his head, and though Cas still couldn’t see his face well he thought he finally knew him well enough to guess the adoration there.

“I’ve been an idiot. But you’ve actively been _dumb._ ”

Cas could feel his face straining – he wasn’t used to smiling this widely for this long. “I think you’re still drunk.”

“Yeah? So? Still sober enough to kiss my dumb boyfriend.” And for a few sweet moments, Dean was kissing him, and Cas finally had the initiative to start reciprocating when Dean pulled away from him again. “Wait, can I call you that?”

Raising his hand to stroke back through Dean’s hair, Cas shook his head, feeling like he might burst with fondness. “Dean, you can call me whatever you like.”

“I like the sound of that.”


	14. Day 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...this one goes out to all the other indignant john denver fans out there - we apparently exist!

“You know what the best thing about the world stopping working is?”

Cas smiled, continuing to lazily stroke circles into the crook of Dean’s neck. “Well, some people stopping working.”

“You know what I mean. I fucking love not needing to get up in the morning.”

“Yeah.”

“Hate not having coffee though. I think I’d kill for a coffee someone else was making me.” He frowned, and sat up a little straighter against the pillows in the bed. “Do you think Dunkin’ Doughnuts is still open? Like for takeaways?”

Laughing, Cas sat himself up straighter in the bed. He still had no job, the world was still a mess, his neck ached from sitting strangely and he was still painfully aware that he needed to tidy his room.

But everything felt _lighter_ – like weights he hadn’t known he’d been carrying around had finally fallen off of his shoulders.

Light was streaming in through his window and Dean was in his arms.

Dean was in his arms.

“What are you smiling at?”

“Nothing special.”

“God, you’re such a sap.” Dean burrowed himself closer to Cas’s side. “All that liked-me-from-the-first-moment stuff, like where do you even _come_ from.”

“Well when did you realise you liked me?”

“Who says I like you now?”

“You. Last night. Repeatedly.”

Dean reached over for the extra pillow and thumped it against Cas’s chest. “Well, I don’t know. You were so quiet when you moved in, it was weird. I barely even saw you the first week or so. And you were so goddamn _conscientious_ at first – you kept doing my dishes!”

Cas huffed out a laugh, remembering. He’d stopped that after Dean had told him it was “creepy” – and had, until recently, only done it to annoy him.

“So yeah. I thought you were hot, and I mean Anna liked you and as we know, she has phenomenal taste. And sure, sometimes I could hear you playing and I wanted to come and watch. But yeah, you seemed too nice for us to ever be friends.”

Shaking his head at the door, Cas continued to smile. “Too nice” was rarely something anyone would describe him as.

“… then Donny crashed here for a few days.”

“It was a _week_.”

Dean flashed a grin up at him, and Cas had to again remind himself that this was all real, that he was going to get to keep this.

“… and you were totally surly-polite about the whole thing. But then he left – and, ok, even I was relieved about that by then – and I just caught you muttering to yourself.” Dean lowered his chin into itself, a sure sign he was about to attempt an impression . ““Fucking finally.”” Starting to laugh at the memory, Dean’s free hand reached up to clasp Cas’s carefully in his own. “I had no idea what a bitch you were!”

Clasping Dean’s fingers, Cas shook his head. “You liked that I could be mean?”

“Not even mean – just kinda bitchy.” Dean nudged into him. “It’s cute.” He smiled. “You’re cute.”

Obligingly recognising what Dean was asking for, Cas leaned down to kiss him. Regardless of morning breath, the unbelievable novelty of kissing Dean still just wasn’t wearing off.

“You know what you’ve still not done for me?” Dean said when they pulled back again, resting back against the headboard.

“What?”

“Played me a song.”

Cas lifted his head only to thunk it back against the headboard. “It’s too early in the relationship to scare you off with that. You’ve not seen me play yet.”

“Have so.”

“Listening through the walls doesn’t count.”

“I know – I’ve… I went and saw you, alright? When you used to have that busy slot along at that pseudo-Irish pub. Dragged Sammy along with me one night, and he’s never shut up about it since. Kept trying to get me to ask you out. Fuck, he’s gonna be so annoying about this.”

For a moment, Cas was rendered speechless. “When?”

Dean squirmed. “Like a year ago? You were wearing that blue shirt.”

Feeling filled up all over again with a warm glow that seemed to appear inside him whenever Dean said something so horrifically and amazingly revealing, Cas found himself tuning his guitar up.

“You get one song.”

He meant to ask if his audience had any requests, but then he remembered that Dean apparently liked how much of a bitch he was, and realised that could be his in for something extremely sappy.

“You fill up my senses like a night in the forest, like the mountains in springtime, like a walk in the rain -”

His voice was far from warmed up, but his self-consciousness over that faded quickly as he got to enjoy Dean shaking his head at him, eyes impossibly fond.

“Come let me love you, let me give my life to you, let me drown in your laughter, let me die in your arms -”

“Does this mean I can’t complain about your music choices anymore?” Dean asked when he finished, letting the guitar flop down on the bed.

“I’m afraid that’s exactly what it means. This is now officially a John Denver appreciating household.”

“Ugh. You really are the worst.”

“I try. So should we get out of bed? I remember you saying something about planning to skip down the stairs today, and we definitely _desperately_ need to go to the shops.”

Dean nodded thoughtfully, then pouted. “Y’sure we _have_ to get out of bed?”

“… pretty sure.”

Crawling up the bed to straddle Cas, Dean pushed his nose right up against his. “You still sure?”

“I’m… becoming less sure.”

“Good,” Dean said, and kissed him again, cradling his face with both hands, fingers burying into the hair Cas wished he was able to get trimmed. Breathing in the smell of him, Cas snaked his hands up Dean’s back to hold him up.

Though he’d never been a morning person, Cas was starting to think he could get used to them if this was what they looked like every day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to everyone commenting along these last few weeks! <3
> 
> Might make some timestamps happen for this later - feel free to prompt away if anyone has suggestions in that direction :)


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